


Vol. 7: The World in Stillness Clouded

by the_casket_girls



Series: Oblivion Hymns [7]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Recovery, Slow-Burn Friendship, Therapy, Trauma/Abuse, music as therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-05-14 20:12:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14776481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_casket_girls/pseuds/the_casket_girls
Summary: Eight years ago, Aeron and Lizzie plot to deal with the Louis Leroux situation.Now, a desperate Lyn tries to free Hope from Under the Mountain.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! It's short but it's here. :)
> 
> Two changes this volume:  
> 1\. A new POV!  
> 2\. I've cut down the number of acts in each volume. It's now a prologue and three acts, meaning that I can move through the plot a lot faster without having to fill in four acts of narrative to fulfil the same purpose. I have each volume's plot sketched out already and hopefully things will move along faster this way.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

PROLOGUE

_I Could Hear the Water_

 

_Eight years ago_ _…_

Aeron blew out the candles with a stuttering breath. The smoke danced away from the wicks, staining the air with grey as applause rang through the room.

"Happy birthday, sweetie," said Caroline, reaching around to squeeze Aeron's shoulder. "Do you want to cut it?"

Aeron nodded as if on autopilot. Caroline plucked all fifteen candles away deftly, leaving him a clear field for operation as he dug the knife into it and cut a small piece.

"It's yours, you know," said Ric. "You could at least cut yourself the biggest one."

"I'm not that hungry."

Various protests were heard around the room, all light-hearted, all jesting. Aeron caught Lizzie's disapproving gaze.  _Act normal, be normal,_  she'd said. They lived in a family of supernaturals, and if they were going to keep secrets, they couldn't be spoilsports that had lost their appetite. All it took was a hint of suspicion to pull their entire plot apart.

"And I have to save room for the ice cream," he added, receiving laughter in return.

"And the truth is revealed," Josie mused from the other side of the room where she was trying to step on Marcel's toes. He was too fast, leaving her stumbling and giggling every time.

As Aeron took his sliver of cake to the ice cream station Caroline had set up, he spotted Lizzie's approving nod. She turned away, starting a conversation with Rebekah about her hair. She'd been thinking of dyeing it, apparently, and Rebekah was thrilled at the suggestion.

Lizzie was much better at lying than Aeron was. He was going to have to get better at it.

"Rainbow sprinkles or m&m's?" asked Elijah, who was manning the ice cream station while clad in a frilly pink apron. (Kol may have been stuck on the other side of the world, but he still made the most entertaining bets and he never, ever lost.)

Aeron forced his mouth to beam wide. "How about both?"

* * *

 

_Now_ _…_

Lyn didn't know how long she spun through the water for.

She caught on rocks that sheared her clothes and flesh, leaving streaks of red as she was pulled down the river. Her shattered ribs creaked with each breath she tried to take above the water, her wings limp and barely steering her through the river.

She found a piece of driftwood eventually, clinging to it until the water calmed. Through the eye that wasn't swollen shut, she saw the opportunity to swim to shore; her legs would not obey her.

So she spun through the water, rocked as though in a cradle until her good eye shut too. She drifted to and from consciousness, the early evening breeze stirring up the water, threatening to tip her off the driftwood.

Lyn spun for long enough that she didn't remember what it was like to be still. She'd long ago emptied her stomach of its contents, too dizzy to keep anything down. Her throat burned with bile, her lips cracking, fingernails shredded from clinging to rocks in the initial descent.

She was going to die here, Lyn concluded. She used the last of her energy to look up at the sky, at the stars piercing through the dark, evening blue. At least she wasn't alone.

Lyn was insensate by the time there was a crash of water beside her. She barely registered the rough fingers on her sun-burned cheeks, the panicked voice crying her name, the feeling of being lifted up, up, up.

When she opened the only eye that would, Lyn saw nothing but sky.


	2. Act I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unedited! sorry for the wait

# I. You Walk Around

_Eight years ago ..._

 

The front entry was cramped with kids and their bags, parents scurrying to and fro, checking clothes, checking hair, checking faces. Aeron stood among but separate, off to one side but still choked with the scent of a mass of people, all lingering, all preoccupied.

Josie sidled up to him, slipping an unwrapped lollipop into his mouth—a clean one this time, thank god. And grape, too.

"Looks crazy, doesn't it?" she asked. Her own lollipop clacked against her teeth as she shoved it into her cheek to talk better. "Bet it makes you excited to start back."

"Yeah, a little," Aeron lied. He wasn't excited to be doing this, but it was the best way to get closer to the truth. "Where's Lizzie?"

"Probably fixing her hair or something, I don't know. She has a lunch date with her girlfriend."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I heard mom and dad talking about it."

"What were they saying?"

"Something about how she spends too much time with Desiree and whether or not they should say something. Dad thinks she's too young; Mom thinks if they comment on it they'll make her feel ashamed of her sexuality or something."

"Do you think it would?"

"Lizzie's lived her whole life a lesbian with a loving, non-asshole family. I doubt anything our well-meaning parents say could make her think they don't like her girlfriend. They just want her to slow things down."

Aeron nodded, holding his tongue. He wasn't supposed to have met Desiree yet—a secret rendezvous didn't count—so he couldn't really voice an opinion.

"Ugh." Josie made a face, gaze fixed on the entryway. "I was half-hoping he'd take a hint and stay gone after break."

Aeron looked over his shoulder, spotting the object of Josie's disgust: Louis. He was dressed in cargo pants and a button-up shirt, hair slicked back and sunglasses on his face. It was an overcast day. He wasn't even carrying his own bags.

A woman appeared behind him, a head taller and with a very familiar face.

"Who's that?" Aeron asked, watching her carefully. She was wheeling Louis' two suitcases behind her, dressed in the blouse and skirt that seemed to be her preferred outfit. She looked just as gaunt and wide-eyed as she had at the storage facility when she'd almost caught them in the container.

"Never seen her before," said Josie. "His dad usually drops him off. Maybe that's a step-mom or something."

"Maybe." Aeron tried to listen in on their conversation but they kept their voices low and their comments short as they wended their way through the crowd and headed for his room.

Josie huffed, uninterested. "I wanna go do something fun. Wanna come?"

Tearing his eyes away from Louis and the woman, Aeron shook his head. "I think I'm gonna go see if I can catch Lizzie before she heads out. See you later?" He framed it as a question but used it as an exit, ducking out of the conversation before Josie could object.

 

#

 

Lizzie was indeed preparing for her lunch date. Aeron winnowed into her room after texting to ask for permission, not wanting to be caught in the hall of the girls' dormitory on the first day back at school.

"Hey," Lizzie said, not looking away from the mirror. She was finishing her right braid off, deft fingers weaving the sections together before tying it off. She ran her hands over both braids, tugging them down to touch her collarbone to check they were the same length. Finally glancing up at him, she must have noted the hesitant look in his eyes as she turned to face him and said, "What?"

"The woman from the storage facility was downstairs. She brought Louis to school."

Lizzie processed this information quickly. "She was talking to someone on the phone, said she'd add spells to "his" room. I guess that was Louis. Maybe she's his sister?"

"That would make sense. Should we try to find out more?"

"No, they're already suspicious. We tripped a spell at the facility and now she's adding security to Louis' room. Better to keep our distance for now." She surveyed him with a frown. "What's wrong?"

"I just ... I think maybe we should tell your mom."

"Why would we do that? She'll kill us."

"Because this isn't some small thing anymore. It's becoming a big deal, and we should let her know what's happening. The Lerouxes really don't like Hope, and if Louis' sister is hanging around now—"

"We don't actually know that they've done anything, Aeron. Look, I get that you're into Hope for some reason and you want to protect her, but this isn't that big of a deal, okay? We're just having fun investigating assholes. There isn't some big conspiracy here."

"You really think that? We were kidnapped, Lizzie."

"What does that have to do with—wait, you really think they had something to do with that? Aeron, they hate vampires. We were abducted by vampires. There's no logic to that."

"But it is a coincidence."

"Our family has lots of enemies, some more harmless than others. Not everything that comes to your attention within the same few months has to be connected. I guarantee this has nothing to with what happened to us."

"But they still don't know why we were taken."

"No, and I don't really want to talk about, okay? Just—leave it alone, please. I don't want to keep doing this if you're going to make it some thing." She huffed, checking herself in the mirror again. "Look, I have a date to get to. Was that all you wanted to talk about?"

Aeron folded his arms over his chest. "I guess."

"I'll say hi to Des for you." Lizzie stood, checking her outfit in the reflection--a cherry-coloured dress, navy tights, and white tennis shoes. "See ya. Make sure you winnow out."

 

#

 

_Now ..._

 

When Lyn came to, she was burning.

Heat licked along her face, billowing her hair back. She cracked her eyes open to a bright, golden light that had her turning away, shielding her eyes from it. Her arms were trapped against her chest, every part of her constricted. Her breaths came in stuttering gasps as she pressed her flaming cheek to the cool earth.

Forcing herself to calm, Lyn opened her eyes again. The forest was cast in an amber glow from the fire at her back, smoke curling into the night sky above her. She wasn't trapped, just wrapped in a sleeping bag with a fur lining that brushed against her bruised skin. She pressed her nose to the edge of it and inhaled.

She knew whose this was.

Groaning, Lyn rolled back toward the fire despite her body's many, many protests. She took time to let her eyes adjust to the light—or eye, rather, as one was still swollen shut. No, not shut—bandaged, and very carefully too.

A stack of fresh clothes rested on a log nearby. Lyn wriggled over to it, ignoring her ribs' protest. The shirt was Illyrian-made with two slits at the back for her wings. They were the kind you could pull shut, too, with just the tug of a drawstring. The kind favoured by children and adults with unsteady hands.

It smelled just like the sleeping bag.

Lyn tugged the shirt on carefully, checking her ribs as she did. She’d been naked but for the bandages around her ribs and breasts, her sodding clothes gone in favour of a sleeping bag that could keep you warm a thousand feet in the sky if you desired to nap there. Shimmying on the undergarments and trousers was harder, and her ribs screamed at her the entire time she laced her boots. She paid them no mind, finishing dressing by slinging a coat over her back.

Struggling to her feet, Lyn tore the wrapping from her face. Her injured eye wasn't so bad, partly open and with the vision only slightly spotty. She pressed her fingers to the area lightly, finding the swelling reduced by whatever ointment had been on her skin. It smelled like tree sap and remained chilled even as the heat of the fire beat against her face.

Lyn spotted a pack left out for her. She checked it despite knowing exactly what was there: more clothes, some smoked meats, hard bread, and dried fruits, a full water canteen, a wicked little dagger, and a note sealed with string. Lyn unwound it, finding a charcoal scrawl over the parchment in the shape of three lines:

_I'm sorry I couldn't stay._

_They've taken her where it started._

_Please be careful._

There was no signature, no seal, no indication of its author. Lyn knew anyway. She gripped it tightly in her fingers, watching the parchment crease, threaten to tear. Folding it quickly out of sight she stuffed it into the pocket of her trousers and stood, blinking back the tears of pain as she did so.

She was in horrible shape, alone, in the middle of nowhere. She had enough food to last her just over a week and the energy to last her maybe an hour, if that.

And she was going to have to return to the cottage for that _fucking_ sword.

 

#

 

 

_Eight years ago ..._

 

Aeron held the light in his palms, turning it over like a luminescent tennis ball. It looked like it might burn him, but left a pleasant tingling in his palms instead.

   “Awesome,” said Desiree, leaning closer. “Can I touch it? Or will I, like, explode?”

Lizzie reached forward to touch the light with her fingertip, testing it carefully. “Feels weird. Here.” She guided Desiree’s hand to the light, lacing their fingers together as they touched it.

Doing his best to hold it steady, Aeron rolled his shoulders. His arms were sore, fingers aching from keeping the spell stable. The empty apartment they were in wasn’t exactly a comforting atmosphere, either. The walls were freshly painted and the floor was covered in plastic. The windows hung open and there were several pedestal fans going, trying to drive out the stench of the paint. Desiree’s parents owned the building and were mid-renovation on this particular space, making it the perfect place to host secret magical practice sessions. Or so Lizzie had said.

“I can’t—” Aeron let the light flicker out. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine!” chirped Desiree, smothering her disappointment with a smile. “You wanna sit? I can grab you a soda or something.”

“Soda makes him puke. Do you have any juice?”

“Yeah. I’ll grab it from our place.” Desiree jogged out of the apartment, leaving the door wide open.

“You sure her parents aren’t around?” Aeron asked, sitting on one of the stepladders with a sigh.

“They’re furniture shopping three towns away. And they’d be fine to find us here, anyway. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just hard to hold the spell. Do you think we could start working on some offensive stuff soon? I want to be able to hold my own in a fight.”

Lizzie rolled her eyes. “Right, because Louis Leroux and his crazy sister are going to try and kill Hope. Got it.”

Desiree returned before Aeron could respond. “Couldn’t find any juice, so I hope lemonade is okay? Dad just made it this morning.”

“Looks great!” said Lizzie, helping Desiree set the tray down on the floor. She poured it from the pitcher into the glasses, handing Aeron and Desiree theirs. “To magic,” she said, instigating a toast.

“To magic!” Des exclaimed.

Aeron raised his glass half-heartedly, then downed half of it in one go. He was pretty sure his hand was shaking when he put the glass down on the stepladder beside him.

“You don’t look so good,” said Desiree. “Do you want, like, some real food?”

“No, I’m fine. Just need a break for a bit.”

“You should try,” Desiree told Lizzie.

“I can’t do that spell.”

“I thought you could like, absorb magic and spells and stuff?” Desiree said it non-judgmentally, though Aeron got the sense that if anyone else had said it Lizzie might have snapped.

As it was, she just looked at Aeron carefully, starting to nod. “I think maybe I could?”

Aeron raised an eyebrow. “What, like, absorb the magic and replicate the spell?”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s … not normal magic?”

Desiree laughed. “Love that there’s now normal magic and abnormal magic.”

“No magic is normal,” Lizzie said. “I just have to absorb it and understand it and I’ll be fine. Do you mind?” She extended a hand to him.

“Doesn’t it hurt?”

“Not much. Like a sunburn, but only for a few seconds.”

Aeron considered it, thinking back to the skin on the back of his neck after last summer’s pride parade in New Orleans. “Okay,” he hedged, reaching out to let her take his hand. She didn’t pull him up to stand, just stepped closer and smothered his hand in both of hers. Taking a deep breath, she began.

It was like a sunburn, but a little deeper than that. Like there was a string along Aeron’s arm that went right to his heart and Lizzie _tugged_ , stretching it with a burn. It ended as soon as it started, leaving Aeron a bit dizzy.

“Wow,” said Desiree, watching the glow fade from Lizzie’s hands.

“How does it feel?” Aeron asked.

Lizzie blinked dazedly. “It feels … new. Raw.” She looked at her hands carefully. “How do you do the light spell?”

“I think it’s called faelight.” He’d heard some guards call it that before. “I just kinda … imagine it.”

Nodding, Lizzie braced her hands in the same position Aeron had and focused.

Nothing happened.

“Give it a minute,” Aeron advised.

Lizzie’s fingers trembled a little, her brow creasing as she concentrated. Her breath came in short puffs, the muscles in her arms tensing and untensing.

Finally, a spark.

“Woah,” said Lizzie, jumping a bit. “That … feels weird.”

“Different to other magic?”

“Yeah. It’s more … primal, maybe? Like other magic is all words and ingredients and logic, but this is just emotion.”

“That’s so cool,” Desiree intoned. “Do it again!”

Concentrating, Lizzie brought forth another spark, then another and another until she finally had something resembling faelight trembling between her palms.

“I know I’ve said this a lot so far,” Desiree began, eyes wide with wonder, “but that’s amazing.”

Lizzie chuckled, arms shaking slightly as sweat beaded on her forehead. Aeron watched her carefully. “You might want to stop soon,” he suggested. “You’re looking pale.”

“It’s fi—” The light sputtered out before she could finish, leaving Lizzie looking disappointed. She looked to Aeron. “Again?”

“Fine.” He offered a hand to her and she took it excitedly, siphoning off whatever she needed. Aeron guessed they were practicing fighting spells that day anyway.

 

#

 

_Now …_

 

Hope woke flat on back, her spine aching from the position. She still couldn’t move—though at that point it wasn’t surprising—but she could feel softness at her back, a bed cushioning her more comfortably than any she’d slept on since she got to this godforsaken world.

            Jora had had her brought here, she remembered. The cell had been for show, a threat looming over her in case she misbehaved, a promise of the life her baby would live once he was born. It had the desired effect, making Hope desperate and prickly all over every time she remembered the horror that lurked in the catacombs beneath her. She’d seen Aeron’s dreams. She knew what he’d suffered before she met him.

            This room, however, was far nicer. There was a canopy bed, lush carpeting Hope’s feet would never touch, and fine, mahogany furniture. It smelled earthy and smoky in the best way, a crackling hearth keeping it warm for her.

            Inside her, the baby kicked, testing to see if she was still there. Her hand burned with the need to touch her belly in response. Still she couldn’t move.

 

#

 

Hope lay there for what felt like an hour, watching the ceiling through the gauzy film draped over the bedframe. She tried to yell for help but found herself unable to do even that. Perhaps that was a good thing, as the only people she could sense nearby were two strong, steady heartbeats outside her door and she was certain they were Jora’s guards. In all the time that passed, neither spoke a word.

            Finally, footsteps approached. They were lighter than Jora’s, more hesitant and shuffling. The guards parted wordlessly and the door opened. Hope almost injured her eyes as she tried to see beyond what her vision would allow, but she didn’t have to try for long as her visitor soon loomed above her.

            It was a woman with fading hair that might once have been pink or lavender but was now sapped of colour. The skin of her face looked like the evening sky, a darkening blue that disappeared down into the horizon of her collarbones, hidden by the neck of her shirt.

            “Hello, dear,” she greeted. “I understand you’ve had quite an ordeal. I’m Risa, the healer assigned to help you both. I’m just here to check on your baby for the moment, but I’ll administer your next dose of the potion before I leave.”

            Hope knew this voice. She must have heard it a thousand times as she and Aeron slumbered side by side, slipping in and out of each other’s dreams. She’d never known a name or a face, but that voice …

            Risa’s hands were warm as she pressed them first to Hope’s wrist, then to her belly. There was nothing particularly undignified about the examination that followed, though the low intonation of various spells left Hope feeling oddly exposed. She didn’t understand this magic, not fully, and she didn’t like having it so close to her baby.

            But as familiar as the voice felt, so too did the hands.

            Fuck, Hope wished she could speak.

            But she couldn’t, so she didn’t, and soon Risa was tipping the potion back onto Hope’s tongue, the vile taste slipping down her throat all over again.

 

#

 

_Then …_

 

Aeron’s first class both was and wasn’t what he expected.

            It was Supernatural History on a Monday morning, a lesson that was coloured fluorescent green on the schedule Caroline had made him. The notebook for this class had been covered in the same coloured contact paper as well, also Caroline’s handiwork (she’d scrapped the one Josie attempted, citing too many air bubbles causing creases in the paper).

            Josie was in this class, too, and she took great joy in each step of the process for Aeron: walking him to class, finding him a seat, introducing him to her friends (a quiet wolf named Eva Cuevas and a blue-haired witch named Lloyd Adkins). They were fascinated by Aeron, the strange boy their headmistress had taken in and kept hidden away in the attic. They’d seen him jogging with Josie and coming to and fro with Caroline, but never had they been able to assuage their curiosity before.

            Ric arrived at 9am on the dot, dressed in jeans and a sweater that looked much more comfortable than the uniform Caroline had buttoned Aeron into. He fiddled with the tie at his throat, loosening the knot.

            “Good morning, class,” Ric greeted. “I hope you all had a replenishing break with your families.”

            The students murmured in response, a few snickering under their breaths.

            “And I’m glad to see the latest addition to our class, Aeron Pruitt. I hope you all make him feel welcome.”

            The new surname had been Caroline’s idea. Josie had begged them to choose ‘Potter’, but she was summarily overruled.

“All right then.” Ric clapped his hands together. “Let’s get started.”

 

#

 

For a first classroom experience, Aeron found it both appropriate and anticlimactic. Ric read from the syllabus, asked everyone what they’d been up to over break, and was generally cordial but hands-off to help them prepare for the coming months of school.

Class ended with the ringing of a bell Aeron had heard a thousand times from up in his room. The students were galvanized into action, leaping up from their desks and packing their bags hurriedly. Ric shouted reminders about homework over the top of the hubbub. Aeron got the feeling not even half the students had heard him.

The hall was crowded. Josie stuck by Aeron, her pinky finger linked through his to stop them from being separated.

“What’s your next class?” she asked him.

“Uh, maths.” He’d been terrible at it in the entry exam so he wasn’t looking forward to getting into it in class. “I think I have that one with Lizzie.”

“Okay!” Josie chirped. “Do you wanna meet later at lunch?”

Aeron paused. “I think Lizzie and I were going to hang out in the greenhouse, actually.”

“I can meet you guys out there?”

“Sounds great.” Josie bumped his hip with hers. “This is your classroom.” She added in a sing-song voice, “Have fun with ma-aths!”

Aeron smirked. “Yeah, sure.”

 

#

 

Maths wasn’t as boring as Supernatural History, if only because they got straight into the course work and Aeron had to apply himself. Louis wasn’t in that class either, leaving Aeron to wonder just what he was doing at all.

It ended after a torturous hour and a half. The teacher, Mr. Williams, dismissed them all just moments before the bell rang.

“Mr. Pruitt,” Mr. Williams said over the crowd, motioning for Aeron to come up to the desk. “We didn’t get to talk before class started, my bad”—considering that Mr. Williams had been the late one, that was accurate—“but I wanted to take a minute to say hi. I’ve seen your prelim exam and I have some supplementary material for you if you want it, just to help you catch up a bit.”

“Uh, okay.”

Mr. Williams sifted through a bunch of papers until he found a folder. He passed it over to Aeron. “You can check that out and work through what you can at your own pace. Don’t worry about it too much, though—you’re just starting out, and it’s important to have fun with it. I might find some websites or apps or something to help.”

Beside Aeron, Lizzie snorted. He hadn’t even known she was there until she did. “You sound like you’ve been reading ‘how to keep in touch with the youth’, Dorian,” she said.

“Hey,” Mr. Williams objected. His tone was sharp but a smile played on his lips. “If you’re going to mock me in school hours, call me ‘Mr. Williams’ or I’ll dob you into your dad.”

“Ooh, I’m terrified, _Mr. Williams_. Are you done being weird?”

“Yes, Lizzie, I’m done. Go have fun at lunch.”

Lizzie dragged Aeron out of there by his sleeve.

 

#

 

Josie was already there when they arrived. Lizzie stiffened at Aeron’s side, going cold.

“What’s wrong?” Josie asked through a mouthful of bread.

Lizzie ignored her twin, turning on Aeron. “Was this deliberate?”

Aeron averted his gaze. “She should know.”

“Should know what?” Josie asked. “Why are you guys being freaky?”

“We didn’t come here to eat,” Aeron told Josie, though his eyes remained on Lizzie. “We’re here to practice.”

“Practice what?”

Lizzie glared at Aeron. “Unbelievable,” she hissed. Evidently she knew that Josie being there wasn’t an accident—Aeron had invited her.

“It’s no big deal, you said. Just something we’re doing to keep ourselves busy. So why shouldn’t we tell her?” _Tell me this is more than it is. Tell me why you’re worried about your sister getting involved._ If Lizzie really believed they were scouting out Louis Leroux and it was _nothing,_ why wouldn’t she let Josie in on the fun?

Shoving her tray of food aside, Josie stood. “What the fuck are you guys talking about?”

Finally, Aeron turned to look at her. “I think Louis and his family are plotting something to do with Hope. The way he antagonizes her, I think that’s just a symptom of a greater issue. I was talking to Adam—”

“Adam’s involved too?” asked Josie. She looked at Lizzie. “And you thought I’d just be fine with being kept in the dark?”

“I thought you’d be safer being kept in the dark.”

“You told me it was nothing,” said Aeron. “Why would you say that if you didn’t believe it?”

“Because this is fucked up, Aeron!” Lizzie exploded. “I barely held the invisibility spell that night. Louis’ sister could’ve found us, she could’ve hurt us, and Desiree was there—”

“Wait, _Desiree?”_ objected Josie. “Your girlfriend was under an invisibility spell?”

“She knows I’m a witch.”

“She _what_?”

“I told her soon after our first date. It’s fine, she’s not gonna tell anyone.”

“Yeah, that’s totally fine,” Josie said sarcastically. “Until Mom _kills_ you.”

Lizzie’s eyes narrowed. “Mom’s never gonna know.”

“Why shouldn’t I tell her? You’re sneaking around, doing all this shifty bullshit—”

“You cannot tell Mom about any of this,” Lizzie insisted. “She will actually murder us.”

“No, she won’t,” Aeron countered, wishing he sounded more certain than he did.

Josie picked up on some of his concern. “Of course not,” she confirmed. “But if you want me to keep my mouth shut, you’d better tell me everything right the fuck now.”

The twins stared one another down, magic crackling in the air.

“First you promise not to tell,” said Lizzie, voice strangled. “Then I tell you everything.” She stuck her hand out, pinky outstretched.

“Fine,” Josie agreed, hooking Lizzie’s pinky with hers. “I won’t tell Mom.”

“Or anyone.”

“Or anyone,” Josie repeated, annoyed. She dropped Lizzie’s finger. “Now can you tell me what’s going on?”

 

#

 

It took Lyn a week to arrive at the Spring palace.

The hedge-maze alone accounted for two days, lost and delirious and running out of both food and water. She ended up sucking moisture from the roots just to keep her throat from blistering in the heat.

Finally, after what felt like years, she broke free of the maze. Her sore feet crunched over the loose stones, sending them scattering behind her as she mustered up the strength to jog.

There was a fountain between her and the front steps. She was inches away from the water when two arms clamped down on her shoulders, wrenching her back.

“Wait,” she rasped, clutching at the gloved hands. “I need to see them.”

The guards hefted her up, dragging her back the way she’d come.

“No, please, please—”

_“Enough,”_ a voice cut in. Immediately, the hands left her to sprawl on the ground, the rocks digging into her face.

“Leave us.”

The guards bowed beside Lyn, then marched off. She took a moment to lift herself up off the ground, the rocks scattering under her palms. In her exhaustion, she almost slipped—but softer hands gripped her, keeping her from falling again.

“Are you all right?”

Lyn shook her head. “No,” she confessed, tears springing to her dry, sore eyes. “I need your help.”


	3. Act II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the unforgivably long wait! Thank you all for your wonderful patience.

#  II. Hope Becomes a Loss

 

_Eight years ago…_

 

Josie knowing changed everything.

Well, not _everything_ everything, but since she had no impulse control and already held enough hatred in her heart to burn a thousand Louis Lerouxes (her words), things became distinctly unsubtle.

First of all, Josie never wanted to stop talking about it. She chattered on and on between classes, sometimes even during—but never, _ever_ in Geography. Which just so happened to be the one class Aeron, Josie, and Louis all shared.

The teacher was an older werewolf who insisted on being addressed as Marissa. She was prattling on about something Aeron didn’t understand and may have been interested in if he wasn’t watching Josie, who was watching Louis, who was watching the door. He seemed eager to leave, to get somewhere else. Perhaps that was suspicious.

Perhaps that was just because Geography was fucking boring.

The bell rang for a second before the sound of it was choked out by students zipping up their bags. Marissa called out after them about homework and papers due, but hardly anyone heard. Aeron smiled at her in acknowledgement on his way past; she was nice, even if she was boring. He didn’t want to be rude.

The jostling of students in the hall was something he still had to get used to. He remained tense, hyper-aware of everything around him as he picked his way through the crowd on Josie’s heels.

It quickly became apparent that she wasn’t headed for her next class. But then, neither was Louis, the person she was stalking.

“Is this smart?” Aeron asked under his breath.

“He’s heading in the opposite direction of his next class,” Josie replied.

“So are we.”

“We’re not bigoted assholes out to get Hope.”

Point taken, Aeron lapsed into silence and ghosted Josie, fingers itching to reach for his phone and text Lizzie.

Once they were free of the crowds, Josie tucked her hand into Aeron’s and muttered a quiet concealing spell to aid their stalking. Aeron felt it slipping over his skin like plastic wrap, plucking at the hairs on the back of his neck. He knew it was to keep him safe, but it never felt that way to have another spell cast over him like a cold sheet.

Louis exited the school by the fire exit doors marked ‘DO NOT ENTER EXCEPT IN CASE OF EMERGENCY’. There was no emergency, but given the way Aeron could _feel_ Josie’s blood boiling, he thought there might be.

“Let’s hang back a bit,” he whispered. Louis couldn’t hear them through the spell, but it still felt wrong to make noise as they followed him across the gravel drive, toward one of the caretakers’ sheds.

“How about not,” Josie bit back, quickening her pace.

Louis disappeared from their view briefly. Josie jogged, tugging Aeron along to catch up with her as they rounded the corner of the shed. Louis was gone, but the door was still open slightly.

Slowing, Josie crept along, her grip on Aeron’s hand tightening. He felt the magic ripple through her, coiling like a snake preparing to strike. She opened the door slowly, carefully, and stepped over the threshold.

Louis’ back was to them. He stood in the corner, turning something over in his hands carefully. _“Incendia.”_

Josie exploded into action, dropping Aeron’s hand and launching herself at Louis. She hit him, throwing him against the wall.

“Wha—” He grunted, trying to buck her off him.

“You think you can attack my family, Leroux?” she demanded, voice strained as he tried to pin him in place. He kicked out at her, knocking her off her feet, and dove to get a shovel from where it hung on the wall.

Throughout it all, Aeron stood frozen.

There was little grace to how Josie fought, but there didn’t have to be; she seemed to be twice as strong as her opponent. The shovel clattered against the wall when she kicked it from his hands, and she didn’t stop until Louis was on the floor, hands in front of his face as he sobbed.

_“Please, don’t!”_

“What was the spell?” Josie demanded. “You were setting something on fire?”

Whimpering, Louis raised an injured, bloody hand and pointed at the floor.

More specifically, at the cigarette on the floor.

“I was just trying to smoke,” he said, lips stained with blood from his nose. “I don’t—I don’t know what’s happening.”

Josie blinked, looking between him and the smouldering cigarette shedding ash onto the floorboards. “But you were—I mean—” She looked back at Aeron for guidance; he couldn’t even force himself to speak. “I don’t underst—”

_“What the hell is going on here?”_

 

#

 

_Now …_

 

Hope woke to music.

Humming, more specifically. It was a tune she’d heard before, in a dream that wasn’t hers. It was one of the only nice dreams Aeron ever had.

Forcing her eyes open, Hope fought back the terror that rose when her mind registered her paralysis again. Tears burned in her eyes and she may even have made a sound, because the humming stopped and Risa was above her.

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” she soothed, thumbing Hope’s tears away. “You’re all right.”

Hope doubted that very much, but it wasn’t like she could argue.

“I’m just checking up on you at the minute. Well, you and the little one. He seems to be doing all right in there—oops, did you want to know he’s a he? Sorry, if that’s a no. But you’ll be glad to hear that he’s healthy and doing _very_ well, all things considered.”

Somehow, Hope couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. How embarrassing to wake crying and not be able to wipe your own tears away.

Risa fetched a cloth from somewhere and used it to dab at Hope’s cheeks. “That’s all right, sweetheart,” she said. “You cry it all out. I can’t imagine how scary this is for you.”

 _Then get me out of here!_ Hope wanted to scream.

Risa smiled serenely. “I think the baby might be kicking,” she said. “Would you like to feel?” She took Hope’s hand and pressed it to her belly. Nothing happened. Wouldn’t the tonic affect the baby as well?

Then, a kick.

The tears started all over again. She just wanted to leave, she wanted to walk or crawl or roll out of there and have some peace again. Even pain would be better than this helplessness.

_Don’t worry, sweetheart._

If Hope could, she might have jumped. Because it was Risa’s voice, but her lips hadn’t moved from their benevolent smile.

 _We’re getting you out of here,_ she continued, giving no external indication of their conversation. _Just hang in there._

Hope tried to reach out, to talk back, but Risa moved away from her before she had the chance.

 

#

 

_Then …_

 

Aeron didn’t wince when Keelin pressed the cold stethoscope to his chest. His skin felt hot and itchy all over, and though the chilled surface was a shock it was a welcome sensation all the same.

“Breathe in for me,” she said, listening carefully. They were alone in one of the exam rooms in the infirmary, the closed door the only thing between Aeron and the furore outside. “And out. And in …”

Aeron did as instructed. He wasn’t injured, hadn’t even been touched in the scuffle he’d watched so uselessly. But still, the breathing made his head stop swimming for a moment, so that was useful.

Keelin slipped the stethoscope around to his back, going through more exercises. She seemed to be stretching it out, keeping him there as long as possible. He didn’t complain.

“You don’t work here all the time anymore,” he observed.

“What makes you say that?”

“Your name badge isn’t one of the new styles like the others’. They changed at the beginning of the year so the font was more dyslexia-friendly, after the Oswald kids all started here. Are you working at the hospital now?” It made more sense than her working there; she was a world-class trauma surgeon, not a school nurse.

“I am. But Caroline thought I should be the one to do any check-ups for you, so she calls me in when you need it.” Keelin removed the stethoscope from her ears and tucked it around her neck. “Would you like someone else to do it?”

The answer was no, but Aeron didn’t like feeling inconvenient. What if this had happened in the middle of one of Keelin’s shifts? In the middle of surgery? He wasn’t even hurt. “I can handle someone else.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve had other people take care of me before.” Only one of them was nice like her, but Risa was … he didn’t really know what she was. It was probably naïve to imagine Amarantha had let her live.

Keelin sat down on the stool, planting her feet on the floor to stop it from spinning. “I suppose you have.”

Aeron looked down at his hands. Tanned from the sun, free of bruises or wounds. Healthier than they’d ever looked, but free of the blood that had soaked Josie’s by the end of her outburst.

He should have stopped it. He should have _moved_.

Keelin nudged his knee with hers. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“You know what happened. I heard Josie tell you all.”

“That’s what happened for Josie. I want to know what happened for you.”

“I don’t …” Aeron cleared his throat, trying to stop his voice from cracking. “I don’t know what happened.”

“Would you like to talk to Vincent? I can call him up and leave the room.”

Aeron shook his head. “I’m still talking. There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“I never meant to imply there was. Just that it might help if you could talk to him right now. Has this happened before?”

Aeron shrugged. “I was usually bound when these things happened, so I couldn’t fight if I wanted to. I didn’t fight back until … until I got away that time. But that was with my magic.” He looked down at his hands again, seeking out the one scar—a light pink line that arced across his left palm. “I thought I was past being stuck in place.”

“I’m sure it was very frightening.”

Aeron forced himself to look up and meet Keelin’s gaze. “Do you know what’s going to happen now?”

“That depends on how well Louis is doing. They’ve taken him to the hospital to see what the doctors can do about the damage.”

Aeron’s heart lodged into his throat. “Can’t he be healed with vampire blood?”

“His family noted in his file that they don’t want that used for him. Any significant injuries should be treated at Mystic Falls General, so they’re all coming in from New Orleans to join him there.”

“And what happens if he’s hurt bad?”

“Well …” Keelin rested her feet up on the feet of the chair, tapping her knees with her fingers. “I think that’s up to Caroline and Ric. But, Aeron … you’re going to be okay. They’ll want more information about why you were there, and they’ll figure out what to do. If there’s any punishment, it won’t be bad, it won’t hurt, and you can always ask to leave. I know Marcel and Rebekah are happy to have you back in New Orleans. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Aeron tried to look convincing when he nodded, and it seemed to work as Keelin gave him a relieved smile. Really, her words skated over his ears and hit the wall behind him, leaving him with his own, anxious thoughts.

 

#

 

The shouting outside the door died down eventually, puttering out into fits and starts of conversation until eventually falling silent. Keelin left to get some rest before her next shift at the hospital, and Aeron laid down alone on the uncomfortable bed, plastic covering creaking beneath him. He memorised the CPR chart tacked to the wall, reading it over and over until the faded words blurred in his eyes.

Caroline lingered outside the door for half a minute before she knocked. Aeron told her to come in.

She looked exhausted. Her makeup was smudged, hair more frizzed than curled. Her blouse was untucked from her skirt and her breath smelled like the mouthwash she always used after drinking blood.

“Hey, there. No—you can stay lying down, if you want.”

Aeron still sat up, folding his arms across his knees and pressing his chest into the tops of his thighs. “Is Louis hurt badly?”

“He’s going to be okay.” Caroline dragged the stool in front of the bed and sat on it, skidding backward slightly before she righted herself. She kicked off her heels and sighed with relief at the feeling of her bare feet on the linoleum floor. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m not hurt. Keelin didn’t need to come here to help me.”

Caroline smiled softly. “She likes to check on you.”

“I don’t need checking on. I didn’t even do anything.”

“Aeron …” Caroline sighed. “I understand that this would’ve been very difficult for you to witness. I’ve talked to Josie about her behaviour, and she is going to face some significant consequences. But from what I can tell, the effect this had on you is the worst part of it for her.”

Not knowing how to respond that, Aeron didn’t.

“There are a few things I don’t understand,” Caroline continued. “Josie said she thought Louis was setting something on fire, but she couldn’t see what it was, so she attacked him. If I thought someone was trying to hurt this school, I might do the same thing, but I’m having a hard time understanding why she thought he was using the spell against anyone. Can you maybe explain that to me?”

Aeron stared straight ahead. “I don’t know what she was thinking.” He wanted to tell Caroline—had wanted to tell her for weeks—but she’d just punish him and Lizzie as well as Josie. He didn’t think it would be bad, but he couldn’t let Lizzie get into trouble over something he’d brought to her attention in the first place. “It all happened so fast.”

“Do you remember why you followed him out there?”

“Not really.”

“Are you lying to me, Aeron?”

He forced himself to look at her in the eye without flinching. “No.”

Staring at him for one moment more, Caroline stood, squeezing his shoulder. “How about you go have some quiet time in your room. I’ll bring your dinner to you.”

“Okay.” Aeron forced himself to unfurl, stretching his limbs out and pivoting so that his feet grazed the floor. When he stood, Caroline tucked an arm across his shoulders.

“I’ve let Vincent know there was an incident, and he said he’s available to talk whenever you need it.” She tucked one of the longer bits of hair behind his ear. “If you ever need to talk to me about _anything_ at all, you can, all right? You will never be punished by me the way Amarantha used to.”

So that’s what she thought of his hesitation. Bizarrely, it hadn’t even occurred to him that she would hurt him like his mother. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t be disappointed to learn what he’d been up to, however.

“I know,” he said, another lie.

 

#

 

_Now …_

 

Risa came by three times a day for a week.

Each time, she mentioned either breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Hope was fairly sure it was deliberate, an attempt to keep her oriented, help her keep track of the days. It was never overt, given the audience of two soldiers in the doorway, but Hope held onto whatever snippets she could.

Risa made no attempt to contact her mentally again. Hope tried reaching out for her in her mind, imagining skating along a link just like she did with Aeron, but nothing happened. She wasn’t a daemati, and Risa wasn’t her mate, so how could she communicate with her unless Risa wished it so?

Apparently, Risa did not wish it so.

 

#

 

After ten days, Hope’s back began to ache too badly for her to ignore it.

She was supposed to be lying on her side; Lyn had made certain she didn’t forget, or let her spine get twisted while she was asleep. Here, she was completely unable to move. No one helped her with the pain, not even Risa. The more time passed, the less she spoke to Hope even aloud, and there was certainly no chance for Hope to respond with a list of demands.

One day, Hope was certain she saw bruises on Risa’s wrists. It was all the confirmation she needed: Risa was a prisoner here, too.

Then who had she been talking about when she promised to get Hope free?

 

#

 

Uncle Kol had had plenty of fun with Hope’s name when she was a girl. “Losing hope” was his favourite gag. She’d sneak off in a game of hide-and-seek and he’d fall to his knees and deliver a ridiculous, weepy monologue about losing his only hope. When she sprung out of her hiding place, he’d gather her up like he hadn’t seen her in years, like he was a soldier from an old movie returning home to his family.

He was the family drama queen, after all. And Hope had found it funny, to a point.

The concept of losing hope wasn’t so nice when it was a reality. The more time passed, the more she lost of herself.

The days dragged by, one after another. The painful pressure built in Hope’s lower back, and it often felt like her ribs grated against one another when she breathed. Even her legs became stiff and sore, a mounting pain gathering at the joints and refusing to leave her.

But through it all, she refused to cry.

 

#

 

It happened in the middle of the night.

First, there was a crunch, like celery between teeth only louder. Celery also didn’t scream.

It all happened a floor down from Hope, but she heard it like it was right beside her. Her body jolted awake, blood pounding sickeningly in her veins. Her guards’ swords sang when they drew them on the other side of the door, speaking lowly to one another, poised to strike.

 _Don’t leave,_ Hope wanted to scream. If they left, no one could defend her. She couldn’t even defend herself.

Predictably, they didn’t hear her. The screaming continued beneath them, carrying to Hope’s ears and boiling her blood even further. When it didn’t stop, the guards ran from their posts toward it.

Bile burned up Hope’s throat, searing the roof of her mouth. _No, no, no, no—_

She whimpered.

It took her a moment to realise the sound had come from her.

It took her another moment to realise what that meant.

She cried out again, this time louder. Her throat made sound, but her mouth refused to shape it. She tried moving her fingers, but she couldn’t tell if it worked or not. If only she could _sit up_.

The screaming continued, intensifying. Soldiers ran past, barking orders at one another. A roar rocked the mountain, shaking silt loose from the ceiling. Some fell in Hope’s eyes; she blinked it away, screwing up her face.

Her hands balled into fists, the sting of her fingernails in her palms confirmation that she was moving, that she _could_ move.

The door burst open and a harried, bloodied Risa bolted into view. “Oh, good,” she said, wiping the blood from her forehead with her sleeve. “You’re awake.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Hope asked. Well, tried to ask. Her words slurred uncooperatively in her mouth, but the sentiment was still conveyed.

“I told you we were getting you out of here.” Risa pulled the covers from Hope, lifting her legs to slide socks onto them instead. Then she slid a pair of boots on, tying them up quickly with what Hope assumed were deft fingers; she couldn’t see them, still didn’t have the strength to sit herself up.

“I gave you a fake potion,” said Risa. “You should be getting some more movement back. You have an hour to get at full strength, and then you have to run. There’s a map of the tunnels in this bag”—she drops it beside Hope on the bed—“and enough supplies to get you through the woods to the west. You’ll be picked up from there.”

A dozen questions spun through Hope’s head, but none of them made it onto her tongue.

“I know this is all a lot,” said Risa, leaning over Hope. The blood wasn’t hers, Hope realised now that she was closer. Risa was streaked with at least one other person’s blood, and enough of it to indicate they wouldn’t be recovering.

Another roar rang through the mountain.

“It won’t come into here,” said Risa. “I’ve made arrangements. You’ll be safe until the carnage is over.”

Hope grit her teeth, taking a few tries to force out the word. _“Jor-a.”_

“He’s otherwise occupied,” said Risa. “A wraith is tearing through his men as we speak.”

_“How unfortunate.”_

It took Risa one, lurching heartbeat to look up, away from Hope and toward the doorway. Even if Hope hadn’t recognised Jora’s voice, she would’ve known it was him from the horror on Risa’s face.

“How—”

“I winnowed here.” Despite the backdrop of roars and screams, Jora’s voice was filled with delight. “You didn’t really think I couldn’t winnow in my own mountain, did you? What a shame, to have your clever little plot foiled by the simplest oversight.”

Hope could smell Risa’s terror, though it barely showed. She wiped all expression from her face, standing her ground despite the thundering heartbeat Hope could hear almost as clearly as her own.

“I won’t let you hurt them,” said Risa. “You were a fool to think I’d permit it.”

“I was a fool to think you’d learnt your lesson.” Jora’s voice grew louder as he stepped further into the room. “The last time you tried to help a prisoner in this mountain it cost you your family. Why risk losing more?”

“You slaughtered my family,” said Risa. “And you left me with nothing to lose.”

 _Get ready to run,_ Risa spoke into Hope’s mind. _I know it will hurt, and it will be hard, but if I hold him off you may be able to get away. The beast is headed east; if you turn right in the corridor and keep going, you won’t cross paths with it._

Hope tested moving her legs. From what she could tell, they did not obey. Just how much time could Risa buy her?

“A shame,” Jora tutted. “You’re quite a skilled healer. I expected more from you.”

There was a low rasp, glass on wood, and Hope saw Risa palm a bottle of something. She uncorked it with her thumbnail, keeping it out of Jora’s view.

“I consider this worth it.” Quick as a flash, she drew her arm back and threw the glass bottle. Jora ducked out of the way, leaving it to crash uselessly against the stone behind him.

A smell like burning permeated the room.

“A clever trick,” said Jora. “How long did you spend concocting something so … marvellous?”

Risa stumbled back as Jora advanced, right until her back knocked into a cabinet full of similar bottles, all filled with a variety of potions in a variety of colours. She reached for another; Jora caught her hand before she could.

Still in the bed, Hope stru

struggled up, pushing with uncooperative arms. She craned her neck to see the wall behind where Jora had stood, finding a crater there. Everywhere the liquid touched had fizzed and cracked; Risa had made some sort of … acid?

The grinding of bone drew Hope’s gaze back to Risa and Jora. He released his grip on her wrist to take her throat instead.

“Stop,” Hope wheezed. “Please, don’t hurt her.”

Jora glanced at her, eyes dancing. “The potion hasn’t worn off enough for you to use your magic yet,” he said. “And even if you could, I doubt there’s a spell in your arsenal that works faster than her neck will snap.”

He tightened his grip, lifting Risa off the ground. Turning back to her, he said, “It’s always fascinating when history repeats itself. Aeron, begging for your life all those years ago. Amarantha listened to him and chose another punishment for you, but you ended up right back here. Perhaps it’s what you want.”

 _You’re a daemati,_ Hope tried to scream in her mind. _Please, listen to me. You can fight him off. Send him a vision of something horrible. Plant a thought to make him free you. Control him, please, please, please—_

“The bastard’s mate weeps over you,” said Jora. “When that baby’s born and I toss her lifeless corpse into some backwater bog, there’ll be no one left to remember you were ever here.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”

Hope went rigid at the voice, disbelief ending her attempts to move anything but her gaze, drawn inexplicably to the doorway—

Where stood Lyn, axe in one hand, and hell-blade in the other.


	4. Act III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh what an incredibly prompt update ... six months later. (Please don't look directly at me, I'm so ashamed)

III. You May Emerge From This 

 

_Eight years ago…_

 

The fallout from the Louis Leroux situation went a little like this.

 _No Josie_. Aeron didn’t hear from her and hardly anyone mentioned her at all. It was like she’d fallen between the cracks in the floorboards and no one had even blinked.

 _Hardly any Lizzie_. She mostly kept to herself. On the one occasion that Aeron cornered her for information about Josie, she only said that Josie was fine. The two were connected, being Gemini twins, so he had to assume that she was telling the truth.

 _No Louis_. It was hardly a loss, but the boy had been taken back to New Orleans by his parents after he was discharged from hospital. He hadn’t been seriously injured, but, as Caroline was quick to remind, that didn’t mean his injuries weren’t serious. That a student had been beaten by her own daughter had an impact, and it was not a pleasant one to behold.

And Hope … well, in the month following the incident, she only spoke to Aeron once. It had been after school, which Aeron was on break from attending. She appeared at his window, having climbed up the side of the building with ease. It wasn’t that Aeron was ever unhappy to see her, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been tempted to lock her out and pretend he’d never seen her there, clinging to his windowsill.

He’d let her in anyway, watching her clamber over the sill until she was standing right in front of him. It was three days after Josie left, and Aeron had known the moment she heard about it. The mating bond he tried to hard to cut off had been screaming with an anger unlike anything he’d ever felt outside his mother’s mind when they practiced daemati magic. Not that this was the same anger, of course, but it was powerful. Hope was powerful.

Sometimes he wondered just how much power she was keeping from the world.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Did you and Josie really attack Louis Leroux?”

 _I didn’t. Josie did, and I stood there like a statue._ “Whatever Caroline told you is true. And you probably shouldn’t be in here.”

“I’m not afraid of you. I heard you didn’t even get involved.”

“I was there,” Aeron replied, tone bitter. “I was involved.”

Hope watched him carefully, face impassive. “It seems extreme, even for her. I’m guessing there’s something else going on that you won’t say.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

An angry shiver crept down the bond before Aeron shut it out. He didn’t think Hope could tell that her anger was affecting him—she didn’t even know there was a bond. Still, being in close quarters with her and feeling her emotions wasn’t doing great things for his anxiety.

“Look,” she began. “I know you’re still mad at me—”

“Mad at you?” Aeron asked. It might’ve been the first time he ever interrupted her. “Why would I be mad?”

Hope blinked. “Because … because of that night.”

“There have been lots of nights, Hope. You might need to be more specific.”

A tic in her jaw jumped slightly when she tensed it. “The night you were taken. The only reason you were out past the wards is because we were supposed to meet up and watch the full moon, and the only reason I wasn’t there to protect you was because I was out on a date.”

“I don’t …” Aeron’s mind spun slightly. “That wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have stopped them.”

“I’m a fucking tribrid, Aeron. You have no idea what I’m capable of.” The lights flickered for a moment, making the room stutter until she took a deep breath, steadying herself. The faithful glow returned. “I should’ve helped you,” she said through gritted teeth. “And I’m sorry. So can you forgive me for that so you’ll tell me the truth about this?”

“I don’t have to forgive you for something you didn’t do wrong. I was the one that … Look, if anyone failed in that situation, it was me. This time’s no different. I freeze when people need me and I’ll probably never get through that. None of that is your fault.”

“What do you mean, you freeze?”

“I just stop working. I’m the worst person to have around in a crisis.”

“I’m sure that’s not—”

“It’s pretty undeniable, Hope.”

“Well, I’m denying it anyway!” Hope snapped. “You saved me, the night of the car accident. I don’t know how you knew I was in trouble, but you did. You kept me safe and calm while we waited for help. You showed me that—that place—”

The dungeon. “I should never have taken you there.”

“I wasn’t scared.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

Hope folded her arms over her chest. She was wearing a floral-print blouse and jeans. Not exactly the usual school uniform. “Why were you and Josie following Louis?”

“I told you I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Why don’t you trust me?” Hope asked, voice hurt. “If you don’t blame me for those vampires taking you, then why have you pulled away from me? I thought—I thought we were friends. I thought we had a connection.”

 _Oh, you have no idea._ “We are friends. I’ve just been busy.”

“Not too busy to spend all your time with Lizzie and Josie. We’ve barely talked, and you can’t seriously expect me to believe that wasn’t deliberate. So if you aren’t mad at me, why don’t you trust me enough to tell me the truth?”

Aeron couldn’t tell the difference between his anger and Hope’s; it all tangled together in the pit of his stomach, bubbling up and erupting. “Not everything has to be about you, Hope! Did you ever think that maybe I’m not talking to you because I’m not thinking about you? That the reason you feel left out is because you expect to be the centre of the known fucking universe and I’ve dared make friendships that don’t include you?”

Even as the words unspooled from his mouth, Aeron felt Hope’s anger dissolve, replaced first by shock, then by pain.

“Well.” Her tone was cold, well at odds with the emotions through the bond. “I was unaware I was such an inconvenience to you.” She spun on her heel and lifted the window open again, swinging one leg over to begin her climb down.

Perhaps he should’ve gone after her, taken back what he said.

Instead, Aeron did what he always did: froze.

 

#

 

_Now …_

 

The whole room quivered slightly. Or perhaps that was just Hope’s wavering vision.

Lyn rushed Jora, blade swinging. It was artless but strong, catching his arm in a slash as he dodged away. Risa slumped to the floor, clutching at her throat as she huddled away from the fight that ensued.

Lyn and an unarmed Jora were almost evenly matched, but it was just a matter of time before she was disarmed. She could forge blades, but wielding them was something else. Hope tried to struggle up again, but found her body uncooperative and sluggish, like a hangover times a thousand.

Risa’s arms came around Hope, helping her sit up better. Her back screamed at her, each muscle around her spine convulsing. Her grunt of pain prompted a soothing sound from Risa. “The potion will wear off enough for you to move soon,” she said, shoving boots onto Hope’s feet. “And when it does, you have to run. Lyn can help you.”

Hope’s brow creased. How did she know Lyn?

The crashing of glass brought Hope’s attention back to the fight. Lyn had backed Jora up against one of the cabinets in what would have been a good move if Jora hadn’t started lobbing glass vials at her head. One hit her hand as she shied away from it, slicing the skin open as it exploded. She screamed in pain, a smell like burning flesh filling the air.

Jora paused, looking back at the row of similar vials. The moment he figured it out was stretched like it was in slow motion—he was surrounded by weapons.

Sweeping up another, he hurled it at Lyn. She barely ducked out of the way in time. He tossed another; this time, she deflected it with the blade she’d recovered from the ground, but when the glass broke and the contents touched the metal it hissed and screamed, melting whatever it came into contact with.

_What the fuck was in these vials?_

Risa barely glanced in Lyn and Jora’s direction. She finished tying Hope’s boots, then removed the cloak from her own shoulders to sling it around Hope’s. “It’s cold outside, this time of night,” she said. “You’ll have to get far before you can risk a fire. Try not to use magic while you leave; save it for a heating spell for the two of you.”

“Notyou?” Hope slurred.

“Not me,” said Risa. “Try to stand.” She pulled Hope forward a little until she was resting on her feet. She swayed, but with Risa to lean on she managed to remain upright. Her legs were slowly heating up, agony spearing through them as feeling and function returned. Tears pricked her eyes.

“Come on,” Risa continued, leading Hope toward the door. Jora tried to jump after them, but Lyn slashed at him with what remained of her sword. The hellstone glowed brightly, as if sensing its intended target was near, but the blade was damaged by the acid and missed his heart by a mile.

“Interesting to finally know what you’ve been brewing in here, Risa,” Jora panted. “Here was I, thinking it was just medicine.” He palmed another bottle and threw it at Lyn’s feet, making her stumble back.

Risa attached Hope to the doorjamb instead of her, then turned to face Jora. “I never told you it was medicine. Your assumptions are your own, brother.”

_Brother._

Reaching out, Risa grabbed a vial of her own. It was slightly different in colour to the ones Jora had been throwing. She uncorked it, holding it by her lips. “Let them leave, or I’ll drink it.”

Jora laughed. “You’re a traitor, sister. Again, a betrayer. What makes you think I care?”

“You cared when I helped Amarantha’s boy and she wanted me dead. You stopped it then.”

“You betrayed Amarantha,” said Jora. “This time, you betrayed me.”

He leapt over the bed in the center of the room, movements blurring with speed before he slammed into Risa, tossing her back. She hit the wall with all the grace of a rag-doll, limp in his arms when he spun her around and placed her between himself and Lyn. “The sword isn’t much anymore,” he said, grinning through the blood that stained his teeth, “but you could probably get me through her. Right here.” He drew an X on Risa’s shoulder. “Stab up, and maybe you’ll get my heart.”

Lyn didn’t move an inch.

“Do it,” Risa grunted. “You have to.”

Tears burned bright in Lyn’s eyes. “Please don’t ask me to.”

Jora’s hand tightened around Risa’s throat. “She’ll die either way. Might as well commit to it.”

Whole body quaking, Lyn pivoted around the room and snatched Hope from the doorframe, angling her blade until it pointed right at Hope’s belly. “Let her go, or I’ll kill the child.”

Hope’s blood chilled as she tried to fight back. “Lyn, no—” Surely this wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

“No, you won’t,” laughed Jora. “You’ve worked too hard to keep it alive.”

“I won’t let you bring her back.” Lyn’s fingers tightened on the handle. “I refuse to let Amarantha return. And I will do whatever I have to to stop you. So either let us all leave with the child and try to get it another day, or I’ll kill it.”

Hope tried to back away, but she swayed on her feet dangerously and had to grapple at Lyn’s arm to keep upright. The hall was too dangerous to flee into even if her legs were cooperating, the echoes of screaming and shouting getting nearer by the moment.

The tip of the hellblade dug into the skin of Hope’s stomach, almost enough to draw blood.

Jora’s face was crimson. His grip tightened on Risa’s neck, then eased. “I will never stop coming for the whelp.”

“I didn’t think you would.” Lyn extended her free hand toward Risa. “Come on. We’re leaving.”

Regret didn’t leave Risa’s face. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” And then she cracked a vial over her brothers head. His hands came up around her, crushing her to him so the acid rained over her as well. Lyn’s scream was deafening, a litany of _no, no, no, nonononono—_

Releasing a pained, guttural cry, Jora tightened his grip on instinct. The _snap_ of Risa’s spine could not have been mistaken for anything else as she folded in half in her brother’s grip, limp and lifeless.

Jora sagged to the floor, taking his sister with him, and did not move.

Using Lyn’s shock to her advantage, Hope lurched out of her grip. Untethered, her legs bowed, shaking, refusing to hold up her weight. Lyn’s sobs rang through her head like blows. She had to get out, had to get free—

Her legs gave way, so she dropped sideways and grabbed a shelf to stop herself from hitting the floor. It creaked and groaned, the vials rocking under Hope’s grin.

“Hope, stop—”

It was too late. Hope went down, the shelves coming after. She curled up to protect her stomach and felt several pieces of wood hit her back and head, then the sting of glass as it crashed around her. Oh god, so much glass.

Hope remembered what was in the vials only a moment before the burning started.

And then everything went black.

  


_#_

 

_Then …_

 

Aeron hadn’t spent much time in Ric’s office. Caroline’s, sure, but Ric’s had always seemed too hectic. Every surface was covered in paper, notes on supernatural beings and artefacts and so on. It also reeked of scotch more often than not, and Aeron had heard the terse conversations between Ric and Caroline over that fact.

Just because he hadn’t spent much time there, however, didn’t mean Aeron was uncomfortable. Ric had never troubled him, after all, so why should his office?

Except that he had a distinct feeling he was in trouble this time. For what, though? How much did Ric know?

“Sorry about that,” Ric said as he returned. “Minor crisis in the vampire dorms.” He hesitated at the threshold a moment. “Door open or closed?”

Aeron just shrugged.

“I’ll close it,” Ric announced, doing just that. He stepped around Aeron the get to the other side of the desk, shifting papers from his chair so he could sit on it. “How are you, Aeron?”

“I’m … good?”

The skin around Ric’s eyes creased, but he didn’t smile. “You don’t seem so sure.”

“I’m just not sure what I’m doing here.” He’d been attending classes, doing what homework he could, meeting all the benchmarks set out for him. What was going on?

“You’re not in trouble,” Ric assured. “I just wanted to have a chat. Caroline was going to be here, too, but she’s had to leave and help out a new recruit a couple towns away. Would you like to wait until she gets back?”

“I’m fine. What did you want to talk about?” Aeron hated that his voice squeaked.

Ric eased back in his chair. It creaked almost dangerously under his weight. “Look, I won’t beat around the bush here—Vincent called. He said you haven’t been talking to him or Adam in a while.”

“I didn’t realise that was required.”

“It’s not. But it was helpful for you, so … I guess I just wanted to open some lines of communication and let you know that you can come to me. If there’s a reason you don’t want to talk to them, we’ll find someone else.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

Ric exhaled an almost violent breath through his nose but otherwise displayed no sign of irritation. “Whatever’s been going on with you, with Josie and Louis Leroux—”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“If you swear that’s the truth, I’ll have no choice but to believe you and act like it. But if I’m believing it and it’s not the truth, then Aeron, you’re not getting the best help you can here. And you deserve the best help you can get. So tell me what’s going on and let me help you.”

Again, Aeron said, “Nothing’s going on. I don’t need to talk to Vincent anymore, and I’m not really into music right now, so …”

“Is there another hobby we can get you into? It’s good to have something to focus your attention on.”

“School is enough. I want to focus on getting my grades up.”

Ric wiped a hand down his face. “Look, I’m gonna lose my Good Headmaster certification for this, but—you know the grades aren’t everything, right? There’s more to life right now than being able to tick the right boxes on an exam.”

Aeron didn’t let his resolve waver for a second. “It’s what I want to focus on.”

An unblinking stare made Ric look marbleised for a moment. Finally, he said, “Okay. If you’re sure …”

“I’m sure.” Aeron leaned forward, hands on his knees. “Can I go now?”

Ric waved a hand. “Yeah, ‘course. Just … my door’s always open, okay?”

Aeron was out that open door in seconds.

 

#

 

The reprieve Aeron was so looking forward to was not waiting for him in his room. Instead, Lizzie was there, reclining on his bed in her school uniform.

“Haven’t seen you around,” she said instead of _hello._

“I’ve been occupied.”

“All alone in your room? Sure, whatever.” Lizzie sat up, tucking her legs under her. “We need to talk.”

Aeron shut the door. “I’m not really in the mood.”

“Well, I’m not leaving it.” She inhaled deeply. “About the Louis stuff—I don’t want to do it anymore.”

Aeron ignored the sting. What did it matter? Louis was gone, so he couldn’t hurt Hope anyway. “Whatever you want, Lizzie.”

“You really have nothing else to say about it?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“What do _you_ want to say?” Lizzie demanded. She stood up off the bed and folded her arms over her chest. “I’m really sick of having to tiptoe around you, Aeron. You can’t, like, express an emotion?”

Aeron flinched. “What the fuck do you think I was doing this Louis stuff for?” he asked. Even then, his voice was toneless. Spineless.

“I can’t tell. You don’t talk to me.”

“I’m talking to you now.”

“But you’re not saying anything,” Lizzie pressed. “Tell me what’s happening! What’s going on with you?”

Shrugging, Aeron said, “Nothing. I’m done now, so please leave.”

Lizzie’s eyes clouded with tears. “Aer, please—”

“Just leave me alone!”

Aeron didn’t mean to, didn’t try to, but it happened anyway. Magic—his magic, unmistakably—slammed into Lizzie, throwing her through the open door and into the hallway. She hit the wall, just hard enough to leave her wide-eyed and gasping, and a twitch of Aeron’s index finger had the door slamming between them.

He should’ve gone after her. Apologise, check she’s okay. But there were a lot of things Aeron should be doing that he wasn’t, and this wasn’t the worst.

(That was a lie.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you guys in six months! (Kidding, I'm trying to be better I promise xoxo)

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews make everything come along faster!


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